


True Love's Kiss

by jg291



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Established Relationship, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Steter Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:14:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jg291/pseuds/jg291
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter died again. He appears in Lydia's kitchen, demanding her to call Stiles up. Written for Steter Week Day 7, Fairy Tale AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Love's Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> AU in which Stiles and Peter got together during the middle of 3A. Diverges from canon after the 3B finale, where Peter dies instead of Aiden.

Scott’s true love dies, and everyone thinks Stiles blames himself for it. They all treat him delicately, walking on eggshells, not bringing up Allison in his presence.

The one time they do, Scott, bless his heart, gets this pensive look on his face – well, as pensive as Scott McCall, the world’s most dangerous puppy, can get.

“It wasn’t your fault, Stiles,” Scott states delicately. “You didn’t kill her. No one is mad at you for this.”

Stiles plays his part. “I know, I know, I just have the memories of being – it – and I just – can we not talk about this anymore?”

Because Stiles doesn’t want to talk about Allison. To be honest, he never really liked Allison. He tried, because she was important to the group and to Scott, but he never got over her taking away Scott.

But he can’t share the real reason he’s like this. The memory that haunts him isn’t the Oni stabbing Allison outside of Eichen House. It’s the Oni stabbing Peter on the school grounds, pushing Aiden out of the way, doing something unselfish for the first time in his life and ending up dead. Stiles tried to get Peter to be a better person, so he could tell everyone about them without it being a thing, and this is how it turns out.

Yeah, Scott’s true love died, but Stiles’ did too.

***

Aiden doesn’t understand how Lydia can go from a passionate makeout session one second to declaring it’s time for physics homework the next, but that’s what he likes about her. He lets her lead him down the stairs into the kitchen, to get some snacks before the studying begins. She stops short when entering the room.

“Oh, fuck this,” she barks. “We are **not** doing this again.”

“Lydia, babe,” Aiden inquires delicately, “what are you talking about? What are we not doing?”

He likes this girl, but she really makes no sense sometimes.

“Aiden, I’m not talking to you,” she declares. “Can you leave us alone for a sec?”

“Lydia, there’s no one else here… unless this is a banshee thing?”

“Of course it’s a banshee thing. I just need to deal with this quickly and then I can get back to you.”

At this, Peter Hale clears his throat. He needs the boy he died to save to get out of the room so Lydia can help him. It appears Lydia is getting impatient, too, when she shuffles Aiden out of the room. Once he’s gone, she turns to Peter.

“Peter, I mean it, we’re not doing this again. You shouldn’t get three chances at life, I appreciate you saving my boyfriend, but please just leave me alone.”

“Ms. Martin, what a pleasure to see you again,” Peter smirks. “I’m going to need you to do me a favor.”

“Did you not just hear what I said? We are not doing this again,” Lydia fumes.  

“You’re right, Lydia, I’m not here to ask you to help me rise yet again. I just need you to do me one small favor.”

Lydia doesn’t know what to think. One the one hand, she ignores Peter. He might leave her alone, but he’ll figure out a way to come back. She wishes she could just pretend he isn’t there, but that was a thing of last year, and she’s not being the crazy girl again. Just the girl who finds all the dead bodies. She can thank Peter for that one, too. Dick.

“If I help you, will you leave me alone?” Lydia pleads. She really thought Peter Hale was out of her life when he died the second time.

“Sure, of course,” Peter grins like he’s getting exactly what he wants. “I just need you to get Stiles over here for me.”

Lydia tenses at that. She’d be surprised if Peter was here with anything other than ulterior motives, and Stiles has been so off lately. And then again, she thought of the way Peter rushed to help when it seemed like the Nogitsune was taking control, how agitated he was when he had to send Lydia and Scott into Stiles’ head because he couldn’t do it himself.

Perhaps Peter had one relationship that wasn’t quite as antagonistic as everyone would expect.

“And if he comes you’ll leave me alone?”

“Only if you want me to,” Peter grins lasciviously.

Lydia rolls her eyes. She pulls out her cell and starts to dial before Peter cuts her off.

“Don’t tell him I’m here, okay? Just tell him he needs to come over now.”

“Why wouldn’t I –“ Lydia is cut off again.

“Please,” he begs. Well, desperate isn’t an emotion she’s ever seen on Peter Hale before. It’s almost a little sad.

***

Stiles doesn’t pick up the first time. Peter makes her call Stiles again, and then once more. He finally picks up on the third call.

“Jesus, Lydia, I was in the bathroom. You find another dead body?”

Lydia harrumphs. “Why does everyone make that assumption?”

“Because it’s pretty much always true,” Stiles offers unhelpfully. “Seriously, though, what’s up?”

“I need you to come over,” Lydia declares, no room for argument in her voice. 

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it. Are you in trouble? Say banana if you are. I’m with Scott now, he and I can come over,” Stiles rambles.

“Is our friendship so insincere that I would only call you when I need something?” Lydia inquires.

Peter mutters under his breath. Lydia thinks she hears a ‘yes’. She had almost forgotten he was here. She pulls the phone away from her ear and starts to talk to Peter, but thinks better of it. She settles for giving him the finger.

 “Just come over, don’t bring Scott. Nothing’s wrong, and if it was, Aiden’s here. Just come as fast as you can.”

She hangs up and turns to Peter. “Happy now?”

It’s the weirdest thing. Peter’s facial expression isn’t smug, or bored, or impatient, any of the emotions Lydia’s come to expect from Peter Hale.  He looks… nervous. Like this meeting with Stiles was the most important thing in his life.

His death.

***

Stiles shows up about ten minutes later. In the meantime, Lydia’s been trapped in the kitchen, Peter not letting her leave as if he can’t tether his connection to the living realm if she leaves the room. Perhaps it’s true, but she decides to send Aiden home. She has a feeling she’s going to translate an important conversation, one that should be kept as private as possible.

(Stiles barely reacted when she kissed him to stop his panic attack. For the girl he’d been in love with for ten years, you think he’d be even a little bit excited.)

But Stiles runs in, panting a little, cheeks flushed a little red. The look on Peter’s face turns reverent, and Lydia’s suspicions are confirmed. It’s immediately clear that Stiles can’t see who else is in the room with them. 

“Lyds, I’m here. What’s wrong? I saw Aiden leaving, you need to talk about something? I’m your new girlfriend with Allison gone?”

Stiles’ tone is bitter, unlike the introspective voice he’s been using for the past month. For the first time, Lydia truly realizes the hell he’s been going through, and not just because he was possessed.

Her face flickers, against her better wishes. She lost her best friend and wanted not to think about it, not to talk about it. She allowed Scott and Isaac time to grieve, and Stiles got none. He never really liked Allison anyway, just saw her as an obstacle to hanging out with his best friend, and it never occurred to Lydia (the genius) why Stiles was upset.

She knows now, though. Peter is clamoring in the background, trying to get her attention, like he’s afraid to speak. She gestures at him, ignoring the bewildered look on Stiles’ face. Peter refuses to speak until Lydia glares at him.

He falters. “Tell him I’m here,” he mutters.

Stiles finally catches on that they’re not alone in the room. “Are you hearing something, Lyds? Is someone here?”

“Yeahhh,” she drags, uncharacteristically. “Peter.”

“Peter Hale?’ Stiles squeaks. He’s turned so white, so quickly, Lydia would think he saw a ghost.

“Where the fuck is he? Is he here?” Stiles demands, resolve making its way to his voice.

Peter starts to speak up, but stops midsentence when he realizes that Stiles won’t be able to hear him. He settles for moving to a few feet away from Stiles, his eyes gazing directly into Stiles’. Stiles, of course, has no idea.

“Yup,” Lydia drawls. “Anything you want to say to him? I’m not sure how long he’s here.”

“Are you not gonna bring him back?”

“I don’t know how,” Lydia admits. “It wasn’t exactly like I was aware of what I was doing, last time.”

“Okay,” Stiles wavers. He looks like he’s about to pass out. “Am I looking at him? I mean, I guess, is he looking at me?”

“Yes, Stiles, go ahead.”

Stiles steels himself up for a confrontation. A confrontation with thin air, only Stiles would prepare himself for that. Peter looks delighted.  

It’s a weird look.

“You. Fucking. Asshole,” Stiles shouts. “You told me I would have gotten out of it. You were supposed to help me. You weren’t supposed to die. You weren’t _allowed_ to die. You did it anyway. You asshole.”

Peter’s got an unreadable expression on his face. Lydia has no idea if he’s happy, sad, angry, what. She wishes Stiles could see him, wishes she didn’t have to translate, but this is actually kind of heartbreaking. Who knew Peter Hale could get someone to care about him?

“I’m sorry, Stiles, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t sit back and let everyone fight while the oni killed everyone they could get their hands on. I knew when you woke up, you’d feel responsible. You do, don’t you?” Peter asks, almost tenderly.

Lydia waits for Stiles to answer, completely forgetting she needs to translate for a second. She does after a moment and Stiles shrinks into himself, nodding.

“We had plans. My birthday’s in a fucking month, Peter, we could finally tell my dad and everyone about us, start planning the trip for Europe after graduation, let you show me the world. Who’s gonna do that now? Scott?” Stiles barks.

Peter walks up to him, so that he’s inches away. Lydia doesn’t know if it’ll help, but she doesn’t feel the need to tell Stiles how close Peter is. She doesn’t need to make him more upset.

God, this is a weird afternoon. Peter moves his hand towards Stiles, so that it’s cupping Stiles’ cheek. Stiles recoils immediately, jumping back like he’s been shocked.

“Did he see me?” Peter demands. “Can you see me, Stiles?”

Stiles makes no response. Lydia relays the question.

“For a second, yeah. He was – right there. And then, he wasn’t.”

Peter only touched Stiles for a second. Maybe that was the key.

“I have an idea,” Lydia exclaims. “Stiles, hold out your hand.”

He offers his arm reluctantly, and Peter catches on immediately. He walks up again, grabs it. Stiles’ eyes flicker in recognition, but he jumps back again.

“Peter disappeared again,” Stiles pouts.

“You idiot, you need to touch him. Put your arm out again and don’t move it away this time!”

Stiles complies and Peter grabs on again. Stiles’ face lights up like Christmas morning.

“Hey, babe,” he murmurs.

“You know I hate it when you call me that, Stiles,” Peter admonishes.

“You like it better than creeperwolf, right?” Stiles had a grin on his face for what seems like the first time in six months.

“I don’t know, babe – we had some fun with that one,” Peter responds, face in a similar shit-eating grin.

Lydia slowly backs her way out of the kitchen. When she’s out, she calls back. “Peter still there?”

“Yeah,” Stiles shouts.

“Enjoy your privacy as long as you want. I won’t leave the house in case I need to be close by. Don’t be too loud, though, okay? And don’t lose contact! We don’t know when he’ll disappear again. 

She hears from the next room: “and who would have thought Ms. Lydia Martin would want _me_ to stay?” 

***

So, the first love of Stiles’ life has facilitated his reunion with his last. Of course, Stiles thinks, this is his life now. Lydia Martin calling him up so he can see his dead boyfriend again. Just a typical day in Beacon Hills.

But, Peter. Peter’s back. For five minutes, five hours, he doesn’t know. He can’t let go again.

They started fucking shortly after the Alpha Pack came to town, when Peter claimed to be too weak to help Scott and Derek out and nobody would let Stiles tag along. Someone was killing virgins, after all.  

It turned into more quite quickly. Peter understood Stiles’s wit, actually paid attention to him when everyone else looked straight to the next crisis, made him feel good in ways no one else ever did, will probably ever again. Stiles tried to be careful that no one found out about them, but now he could not figure out why. He was sure Derek knew anyway and was firmly resolved never to talk about it, and Isaac would sometimes made snide comments about it, but he’s gone now too, just another casualty of the Nogitsune. At least Issac is still alive, just really, really far. 

Now’s not the time to deal with that, though, with Peter. Who he loved. And never told. Stiles was terrified about this relationship, he was in love with a murderer. But the Stiles became a murderer, too. Not really, Scott says, but he _is._ He might not have been conscious of it, but he has the memories.

Just like Peter did, with Laura. Stiles and Peter have even more in common now than they did before. With no time to share it at all.

Finally, though, Peter pulls Stiles out of his thoughts. “Hey,” Peter murmurs. “How are you doing? The demon’s gone, right?”

That’s what Peter wants to talk about? The Nogitsune? Not the fact that he’s dead, again, and is he trying to get back? How is he here now? Can he do it again? Stiles needs him to do it again. But right, a question was asked of him.

“I mean, yeah, it’s just me in this wonderful head of mine. I haven’t gotten a good night sleep since you died, you know. Sleeping alone doesn’t _work_ for me anymore, Peter. Scott’s been over, tried to help, like he did when my mom died, but I think that’s more for him, he’s missing her, it’s my fault, I can’t help him and he can’t help me.”

Peter’s hand stops being static and starts moving around, making calming circles on Stiles’ palm. Normally it works. It isn’t working now.

“Maybe you should find someone else,” Peter suggests, reluctantly. “I don’t know how long I’m here, Stiles. You need to start moving on. That Malia seems nice, snarky, I think you’d do well with her.”

“ _Your daughter?_ Seriously, fuck, Peter. Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You know about that,” Peter responds, weakly. “I just thought –“

Stiles cuts him off. “You just thought? You just thought it would be okay. To Die. I didn’t give you fucking permission to die. I loved you, Peter. I _love_ you. How am I supposed to deal with this?”

Peter doesn’t respond for a long time. It’s probably just moments, but it feels like Stiles. Stiles worries that he’s scared Peter, that he’ll pull his hand away and just disappear, forever.

Finally, Peter speaks. “You loved me?”

“You go deaf in your third death there? Yes, you idiot.”

“Technically, it’s only the second, but I appreciate you thinking of a fire. Dealing with that was definitely worse than the first death, and this one hasn’t been too bad. Yet. The sex, or rather, lack of it, is pretty boring, though.

Stiles is happy to see his Peter back, but that wasn’t really the response he was looking for. “Anything else you have to say?”

“I didn’t think you’d be one to fish for compliments,” Peter huffs. “But since you asked, yes, of course I love you too. Can I kiss you now?”

Of course. Stiles remembers he has to be careful, he can’t let go of Peter’s hand before they touch elsewhere, but Peter’s got it covered. He brings their mouths together swiftly and god, that feels good. Stiles doesn’t really understand how his ghost boyfriend is kissing him, but he’s not complaining.

Peter somehow gains the leverage to pull his hand away from Stiles’ so he can back the younger man up against the wall without losing contact. It’s a perfect kiss. Peter seems to understand as well as Stiles that it’s most likely their last kiss, so they need to make it count.

It definitely counts.

Eventually, Peter pulls his mouth away from Stiles, a sad look on his face. “I should probably let go now,” he admits.

Stiles shakes his head vigorously. “Must you?”

“Well, as much as I’d like, I probably can’t stay attached to you for the rest of eternity.

“Can’t you?”

Peter smiles, but it’s the sorriest smile Stiles has ever seen.

“I love you,” Peter declares. “Have a good life, okay? Make sure you push Derek’s buttons for me, and try to make Scott the best alpha he can be. You deserve to be the emissary of someone great.” Peter trails off before continuing: “Sorry it couldn’t be me.”

Stiles opens his mouth to speak, but he feels Peter pull away, a warm hand now feeling so, so cold. Stiles closes his eyes and feels the tears starting to well up. Of course Peter wanted the last word.

Lydia’s still in the next room, though, and with the talking stopped, she’ll probably come back in the kitchen soon. Stiles silently counts to five, pulling himself (sort of) together before he opens his eyes again.

Peter’s standing there. Right in front of Stiles. No hands touching, his foot isn’t up against Stiles’ leg, no other body parts surreptitiously leaning over.

He’s still there.

“This kitchen smells amazing,” Peter grins. “Doesn’t it?”

“How are you here? Could you not smell before? I’m confused. Why did you disappear before but not now? What’s going on?”

Peter looks a bit, well, flabbergasted. “I think I’m alive again.”

***

Lydia takes that as her cue to walk back in. “Ever heard of the healing power of true love’s kiss, guys? That’s a **way** better way to bring yourself back from the dead than torturing me for three months, Peter. Couldn’t we have done this last time?”

Stiles’ mouth falls to the floor in shock and doesn’t even say a word as Peter takes his hand and swiftly leads him out of the Martin household.

Thank god they got out Lydia’s kitchen before they could do anything she wouldn’t be able to erase from memory.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Teen Wolf fic, so I hope it was on point. Any constructive criticism would be appreciated!


End file.
